Because I Can
by Lolita22
Summary: It has finally dawned on Seven: she is attracted to the someone. What's a Borg girl to do?   Paris/Celes in the background.  Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**I've decided to experiment with a new style (**__**well, it's new for me). Why? Because I can.**_

_**Summary:**____It has finally dawned on Seven: she is attracted to the chief engineer. What's a Borg girl to do? If this premise offends you, then you definitely won't like this story. If not, come try it! Tell me what you think._

_**DISCLAIMERS: **__I don't own the show, the characters, the settings, or the franchise (as if you didn't know). I don't even own the original idea of a possible romance between Seven and Torres. I'm just borrowing them for my own obscure purposes. No harm or infringement is intended._

_Again, thanks to __**Singing Violin**__ for the helpful beta-reading the original story._

_I've changed it completely since then, but still ;)_

_Thank you to Jadzia for pointing out that this particular style was not J7 material._

_Thank you to my reviewers for pointing out a few glitches. They're all fixed! _

When B'Elanna Torres entered Engineering, Seven was waiting for her, standing straight, hands clasped behind her back as was her habit. They'd been butting heads a lot more than usual lately, and the young Borg had experienced many conflicting emotions about the situation. This time, she wasn't going to let her own social clumsiness turn a simple conversation into an argument. This time, she had a plan. She plunged as soon as a startled Torres acknowledged her presence with a curt, "What's on your mind, Seven?"

"You must sit first." She was immediately appalled at herself; that was _not_ how she'd wanted that to come out. Why was she so nervous? It must be her humanity reasserting itself. "I meant to say, could you sit down, please? There is an important matter that I must bring to your attention, and I have noticed that sitting is your preferred position in such circumstances," she amended quickly.

The lieutenant gave her one of the looks that only she could pull off, and for a moment, she seemed poised to order her to go to hell and let her get back to work. But, perhaps sensing her fraught nerves, she eventually relented – well, as much as the Klingon hybrid ever relented to anyone. She made a show of swaggering to a console edge, and set her shoulders as she briskly lowered herself to her seat. "Well, you wanted this meeting. Start talking."

This unspoken challenge inspired Seven's natural inclination to argue on an uneventful day, but in a matter of this importance, it made her even more determined to continue with her plan. She took a step forward.

And then another. And another. That brought her right in front of the impatient lieutenant. She then paused, holding the other woman's gaze. When the officer didn't budge, she took a deep breath – the only allowance she would make to her quivering stomach – before she crossed the point of no return. She kissed her.

Torres was so stunned by this, every one of her muscles froze. Seven knew this shocked state wouldn't last long before the fiery lieutenant shoved her off and demanded to know what the hell she was thinking. She had to act quickly. She rested her hands on B'Elanna's shoulders, and held her gaze: icy blue eyes and darkening black orbs. Neither would break this one steady contact; it was the only thing that still made sense to them in this world that the former drone had recklessly thrown into chaos.

Working her jaw muscles, carefully watching her victim's every response, Seven slowly lowered her hands to the chief engineer's, settling to hold them like a lover's. That was when the comm. system crackled to Neelix's voice wishing everyone a good morning.

The sound was enough to remind them both of who and where they were. For what seemed like a small eternity, they simply stared at each other, breathing raggedly, their bodies shaking, their stomachs quivering. As Seven nervously waited for her intended's response, she studied her intently, noting that her pupils were dilated, that she kept biting her own lips as if she wanted to taste them, taste her on them, but had to stop herself every time. Seven also noted that with each passing microsecond, every one of Torres's muscles tensed, trembled, and tensed further, until she couldn't hold them any longer.

She started to rise towards Seven, her eyes hungry with a longing Seven had never begun to imagine. Even as the young officer watched, she saw the confusion flicker in her beloved's eyes, wavering a little before it finally steeled itself into smoky black resolve. Seven held her breath as B'Elanna began to move towards her again.

Her next coherent perception was the bruising hardness of the floor on her buttocks and back echoing the raw punch in the gut she had received when the Klingon had hurtled her across the room. Confusion brought on somewhat irrational thoughts, considering the love of her life was presently pacing around her and yelling every insult she could think of. Seven even thought she felt spittle on her cheek, an amazing feet really, as she was currently laying haphazardly on the ground and the mouth it came from was still moving and ranting about five feet above her. When Seven reflexively angled her head towards the doors after hearing approaching footsteps, Torres guessed what was happening and snapped at the computer to seal the engineering doors. She then ordered it to block all incoming communications, and to accept no override codes except her own. The computer obliged before anyone could intrude on them. With that safety measure in check, B'Elanna enthusiastically resumed her yelling.

This was not the reaction Seven had been hoping for. Then again, it wasn't as if she hadn't expected it, even seen it coming. She was just going to have to be patient about this, accept her beloved's ire, and take her punishment like a man. So to speak. It seemed Lt. Paris's idioms were 'rubbing off' on her at the most inappropriate times. Of course, mentally listing idioms had the added benefit of distracting her from the verbal assault. She'd just discovered that she really hated yelling.

She was just coming to this unfortunate conclusion when she felt two fists grab her by the biosuit and pull her to her feet. Seven's legs bucked several inelegant times under her before she finally regained her balance. She rested a hand on a console to steady herself, but it wasn't long before she realized that Torres was advancing on her like a raging bull on a toreador. She actually expected a blow, but instead, the brunette simply halted right in front of her, planted her feet, and stared her down. She was still shaking, and her voice was hoarse when she said, "Get out."

"Lieutenant?" was the young officer's uncertain response.

"You heard me. Get out." When Seven simply stared, B'Elanna shoved her towards the door. "I don't know who the hell you think you are," she growled, "but no one – not you, nor anyone else – has the right to barge in here and force their feelings on me. No one," she reiterated. Seven's eyes started to tear up, but she couldn't bring herself to move, to look away from her beloved's angry face. Despite everything that had transpired, she could not believe that she was ultimately being rejected. She just couldn't. She had finally managed to lift a foot when a renewed shout resonated in her ears and shook her entire body. "Get out!"

With that, Seven rotated fully, and took her first steps toward the sealed doors. She hadn't gone very far, however, when she heard another frustrated cry.

"Oh, and Seven, one last thing." Seven stood rooted to the spot, petrified into place. She didn't even dare to breathe. It was Torres who grabbed her by the shoulders, whipped her around, and planted a searing kiss on her mouth. Right before she bit her on the cheek.

The lieutenant then stepped back, took a good look at her suitor, and kissed her hard again, crushing the athletic body against her own. When she finally stepped back again, they were both heaving, completely out of breath. "I…" B'Elanna panted, "I wasn't too hard on you, was I?"

This made Seven of Nine smile one of her rare smiles. Remembering her newly learned human expressions, she asserted, "Darling, you make a saber-tooth tiger seem like a harmless pussycat."

This earned her a shocked stare, which lasted a full ten seconds. B'Elanna didn't know what surprised her more: Seven's description itself or the fact that it had crossed the ex-drone's lips. She finally erupted into a full-on, drop-down, drag-out belly laugh, deciding she couldn't care less.

Seven's mind went pleasantly blank.

_**Where did that come from, you ask? What got into Seven, you wonder? Read on to chapter 2 to find out.**_


	2. Prologue and Epilogue

_**Where did that come **__**from? Find the answers in this prologue, and epilogue, to C1.**_

_**Thanks to SV for beta-reading th**__**is one too. And I changed it all as well**___

**Pr****ologue**

Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris was bored out of his daredevil's mind. He'd injured his right hand in an altercation with a hostile alien a few days before, and the doctor had insisted he remain off-duty to rest his newly regenerated nerves. His girlfriend was actually on an away mission-a feat in itself- and Harry was pulling double-shifts on the Bridge, so he was on his own.

Consequently, partly because few other people would, partly out of curiosity, and partly out of sheer desperation, he had started hanging out with Seven of Nine. He continued hanging out with her because he found her company surprisingly entertaining. He came to consider it a shame that so few people took the time to get to know the quirky woman under the icy façade.

On one such afternoon, he was lounging on some supply boxes he had improvised into a couch, babbling about this and that and generally making a nuisance of himself, when something he said caused the tall blonde's elegant fingers to stop their frantic races across the panels. Noticing this, he stopped talking, and waited for that icy blue stare to turn to him. He noticed the rising vein in Seven's temple, which, coming from the Borg, constituted the equivalent of a sudden outburst. "What did I say?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"You have stated that you and your 'girlfriend' often have arguments." It obviously wasn't a question. He raised his eyebrows and waited for her to elaborate. "You have stated that you 'don't mean' for these arguments to happen, and yet, they occur nonetheless."

"Yeah, well, sometimes, when you feel so strongly toward someone, it's easy to let your emotions get carried away. Sometimes, just being next to Celes makes me feel like my head is about to explode." This intrigued the Borg. She rotated towards him fully and clasped her hands behind her back. "Explain," she demanded.

"Uh, well, it's like this." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Whenever I get near her, it's like her scent is so intoxicating, I forget about everything else. When she looks at me, it feels like a punch in the gut, and I find myself thinking, 'God, she's the most beautiful woman in the world.' Whenever she's hurt, or angry, or scared, I just want to be close to her so I can hold her and somehow make everything better. When she's happy, I want to share that joy with her. Sometimes, she's so proud of herself, or of something that happened, and I just want to celebrate with her, like in a way that's not suitable for young children, you know ? Well, I don't know if _you_ know, but…"

"I understand that you are referring to your sexual desire for Ensign Celes," was Seven's curt response. Tom cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, just so we're clear. Ahem, right," was the best he could manage.

"I have experienced similar sensations while in the presence of another crewmember." At Seven's announcement, Tom could only stare, in complete and total shock. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that the ex-drone was capable of such feelings. And judging by the look on her face, she herself hadn't thought she was capable of them either. "Wow, Seven, I think you're in love with someone!"

"You must be mistaken," was the icy blonde's brusque response. Before Tom could react, she had already summoned the relevant data from the computer. Thanks to her eidetic memory, it only took her a few moments before she had analyzed a significant enough portion of the database to come to a fatalistic conclusion. "My apologies, Lieutenant. It appears you were correct; I am indeed 'in love' with this person." She turned to him again. "How do I go about remedying this affliction?"

Tom laughed. "It's not a disease, Seven. It's something to be celebrated!" But the young woman did not seem convinced. Tom decided to try to cheer her on. "Aw, come on, _Dahling_," he encouraged in a mock southern drawl, "love is a great well of happiness. When you're lucky enough to find it, you have to tell the other person how you feel. It's good to share love with someone. Come on, why don't you tell me who it is?" At this, the astrometrics officer just stonewalled him. "Oh, come on, just a little hint? I promise I won't tell anyone." At her dubious stare, he added, "I swear. Cross my heart. Now, go on; you can tell me." He was dying to know who would capture such a perfectionist's heart.

"Lieutenant Torres," was Seven's defeated reply. When Tom's jaw dropped, she repeated, irritated, "Lieutenant Torres is the person I am 'in love' with."

"L-lieutenant To-Torres?" He stuttered. "Boy, and I thought Harry had a knack for picking impossible women." When Seven's lower lip actually quivered, he backpedalled as quickly as his staggered tongue would allow. "Look, Seven, it's going to be okay. I know you're probably afraid of going to B'Elanna with your feelings—"

"Fear is irrelevant," Seven announced.

"Right, well, maybe you think that no possible good can come from telling her, but hey, you never know, she just might love you back." As he said it, he started remembering all the occasions he'd witnessed the lieutenant actually pick fights with the Borg, provoked her into arguments, and generally quarreled more vigorously than she did with anyone else. Hey, for all they knew, maybe the Klingon _was_ in love with Seven. Then again, if they were wrong, Seven might not get to keep all her limbs to fight back with. Plus, she guarded her personal feelings like a Ferengi guarded gold-pressed latinum. He shuddered to think how she would react to a declaration of love from someone equally intimidating as herself, but hey, who was he to stand in the way of true love? "I still think you should tell her," he declared. "She might give you a rough time at first, but it'll be worth it in the end. You'll see."

"Commander Chakotay revealed his feelings to the captain, and he did not seem to think it was 'worth it' afterward." He knew she was referring to last year's Christmas party. Well, okay, she had him there. That had _not_ gone well for the commander. "Yeah, but Chakotay's a pussycat." At her confused stare, he explained further, "As tough as he was as a Maquis, he won't fight for a woman's affections if she doesn't want to be fought for. Now take me for example, I'm more than happy to pursue a woman until I finally convince her that she just can't live without me." This explanation seemed to make sense to the Borg. "Commander Chakotay is inefficient when it comes to personal matters; I strive for perfection in all aspects of humanity. I shall be more straightforward," she reasoned.

"Yeah, that's the spirit. You should sweep her off her feet—you know, surprise her, impress her," he amended, anticipating how the Borg's literal mind often worked. Feeling it was his duty to add a note of caution, however, he added, "Just… be ready for a bit of a rocky ride. When it comes to personal matters, the Chief Engineer isn't exactly known for making things easy for others. Plus, you know, she's got a hell of a temper. She might demand that you keep your feelings a secret from the rest of the crew." Seven seemed to weigh this carefully. "I understand," she finally stated.

Later that evening, Seven of Nine was programming her alcove in Cargo Bay Two for a productive regeneration cycle. Her first attempt to modify her alcove had been a spectacular failure, but since then she had learned to safely 'think while she slept.' She would use the night's rest to formulate an efficient plan to reveal her feelings to the woman of her dreams, then she would execute it first thing in the morning… before she could change her mind. Perhaps fear wasn't so irrelevant after all.

Epilogue

Tom Paris picked his way through his desert, to which Neelix had given a most unappetizing name. He was restlessly waiting for Celes's return, which was scheduled for later that evening. Glancing up, he spotted Seven of Nine, diligently walking over to the kitchen counter and selecting a meal from Neelix's dubious menu. He waited for her to turn, then waved her over.

The cool blonde approached his table and sat formally across from him. A curt nod was her only greeting. She was acting much too reserved, even by the elegant Borg's standards. Tom's curiosity started gnawing at him. He just had to ask, "So, how'd it go?"

At Seven's blank stare, he elaborated, "Come on, I've heard the rumors. You talked to Torres, didn't you?" She merely raised a metallic eyebrow. He took that as a yes. "And… ?" he prompted. She gave him another of the curt sideways nods that only she could pull off, then stated, "You were correct, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Torres is most definitely not a woman to be 'trifled' with."

"I'm sorry to hear that," came the pilot's sympathetic response. Because he'd shifted his attention back to his smelly desert, he missed the slight upward curve of the ex-drone's lips.

requel

cept no ry syllable as was her laugh, deciding she couldn'ss upth. crushing the athletic body against her ow

_**So, what did you think? Good, bad or indifferent, I live for reviews.**_


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